


In The Woods (If You See Monsters, Run...)

by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Series: FullmoonFiclet Entries [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen, Hermione Granger (mention) - Freeform, M/M, Marauders (mention), Muggle John Stilinski, Muggles, Salem Witches' Institute, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build, Stiles-centric, Underage Drinking, Wizard Stiles Stilinski, Wizards, Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The woods around the Salem Witches' Institute have been Stiles' sanctuary from the day he enrolled in the school. When he saw something there that he couldn't understand, he fell into a researching frenzy until one of the school librarians pointed him in an intriguing direction. What he found was more than he was imagining, and led him down trails he wasn't expecting. </p><p>It all began with a pair of blue eyes in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Worst is Coming

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a Harry Potter/Hogwarts AU: it's set in the same universe, but in the US instead of Britain. Some of the universe specific words will show up, like Muggles for non-magical people, school subjects from Hogwarts, Animagi for wizards and witches who can transform into animals. 
> 
> Current rating is subject to change.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even a month into his first year, Stiles found himself in the library -- already his favorite place in the Salem Witches' Institute -- and stumbled upon multiple books with the theme of superstitions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the Full Moon Ficlet prompt #116: Omen.

When Stiles was growing up, he knew the usual superstitions: ladders, black cats, pennies, and the one about magpies that he hated recalling. Of course, because his Mom was a witch, he was also aware of things in the magical world that were considered to be signs of bad luck. There were very few he actually believed in, despite the Polish heritage and beliefs that his grandparents on both sides of his family occasionally tried to reinforce in him.

"They're all just old wives' tales, son," his Dad would say whenever any of it came up, his pragmatic Muggle brain accepting of magic since he witnessed it on a daily basis but unwilling to take omens of any kind seriously. "Many of them come from witch hunts and have too many possible origins to be genuine."

"Okay." Stiles would nod and file both pieces of information away in his curious brain.

When he got his letter to attend the Salem Witches' Institute, his Mom and Dad briefly considered packing up everything and moving to the other side of the country. But San Francisco had the biggest magical hospital in the country, and the summer before Stiles' first year was marked by his Mom's illness -- one that not even magic knew what to do with, let alone Muggle medicine. So his Dad stayed, his Mom was hospitalized, and Stiles boarded the cross-country train that picked up kids enrolled in the SWI as it travelled.

Barely a month into his first year, he found himself in the library -- already his favorite place in the school -- and stumbled upon multiple books with the theme of superstitions. It was only when the librarian -- an old witch whom everyone referred to for essays on the witch trials since she'd been burned at the stake several times in different disguises -- found him with a copy of _Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming_ that she banned him from that section and charmed it so he couldn’t even get someone else to bring him the books.

"It's no good for someone your age to focus on silly superstitions," she chided him with a stern look in her face. "You'll be seeing them in everything, and you'll be scared of your own shadow."

Stiles gave in, but the image on the cover didn't leave his mind. Barely anything he'd seen even once ever did manage to get forgotten, not unless he deliberately willed information from his memory. Or, as his Dad liked to say, until Stiles decided to ignore the existence of said knowledge so he could get up to various shenanigans.

The book came to his mind again when he was Floo'ed back to the west coast just before his winter break. His Mom had turned for the worse, the dementia resisting all spells and healing and her magical abilities becoming a danger to everyone around her since she wasn't able to control them anymore. Stiles was the one who sat in her room when the curse burst out of her, and he knew that the only reason he was not physically hurt was that Claudia had a sudden burst of clarity just then and shielded him from the purple light with her own body.

"I love you, _lisek_ ," she whispered, and Stiles could only watch as the curse took effect, blissfully without any outward damage.

He didn't go back to school until after the winter break, and his Dad had packed up and left Beacon Hills then, transferring to a Sheriff's station closer to Salem. Everyone in school knew what happened, and with the exception of his teachers and his best friend Scott McCall, they all walked around Stiles gingerly, afraid to upset him. It wasn't like he had that many friends, not even on the Quodpot team that his Dad had encouraged Stiles to join. Scott, a wizard whose Mom was one of the Healers who took care of Claudia, was the only one not treating Stiles any differently than before, though even he avoided mentioning Stiles' Mom unless it was necessary. The other person who didn't change around him was Lydia Martin, a witch whom Stiles had a crush on from the moment they ran into each other at the enrollment ceremony, and who continued ignoring Stiles' presence exactly the same way as she had before.

"She was the only one who managed a perfect Wit-Sharpening Potion, Scott, it was _amazing_ ," Stiles recounted to Scott four years later, eyes bright and shining as his awe at Lydia's skill showed on his face. "I mean, mine wasn't too shabby, but hers was…"

Scott's eyes glazed over, a regular side-effect of listening to Stiles talking about Lydia in the past few years. Stiles didn't take offense at it anymore, mostly because he was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice Scott's lack of attention.

"Dude, there are bets on _you_ having the highest score in O.W.L.s," Scott chimed in when Stiles paused. "Hey, do you have some of the potion? I could use it, and you don't need it."

"Sorry, Scotty, you know we're not allowed to keep any illegal ones." Stiles shrugged, then he leaned in and whispered into Scott's ear, "But I'll try and sneak some next week."

"Cool," Scott lit up and grinned at Stiles. "Oh, wow, that's not a first year," he blurted then, causing Stiles to whip his head around towards the teachers' table.

"A transfer?" Danny -- one of their fellow Quodpot players -- asked from behind Stiles' back. "Bit late in the year to be changing schools."

"She's… is that a Beauxbatons badge?" Stiles narrowed his eyes to focus on the blazer the girl whom they were all staring at was wearing. "International transfer, whoa."

"Well, hardly one from America, I mean, how many schools are there?" Scott shrugged.

"Think she's part Veela?" Stiles asked, not missing the dazed expression in Scott's face.

While the historical ties of the Beauxbatons Academy to Veela were well-known, it turned out that the girl -- Allison -- wasn't related to one, and the dazed look was simply a sign of Scott's crush on her. She immediately became friends with Lydia, and with Scott's crush on Allison not weakening, Stiles was suddenly spending a lot more time around his own crush. Not that it helped with getting much more of Lydia's attention, but she did eventually help set up Scott and Allison.

With his best friend out of commission for best-friend duties -- like trips to the nearby village -- Stiles found himself often wandering out into the woods surrounding a part of the school. He preferred that part to the buildings on a nearby small island, like Potions and Dark Arts. The school had been split into two for the purposes of hiding it from Muggles, about half of the buildings -- connected via a magical passage underground -- on the island so that the defensive and camouflaging spells for the part near Muggle areas didn't have to cover explosions that were all too frequent in Potions. The island was also where the Quodpot field was built, away from prying non-magical eyes and preventing accidental injuries from stray Quods.

By the time Stiles and, miraculously, Scott were starting their sixth year, Stiles' excursions to the woods were no longer as illegal as the year before. He was still underage, but he was close enough to seventeen that the teachers and groundskeepers looked the other way when he snuck past them into the line of trees surrounding the school.

"What is so fascinating in there?" Scott asked once, curious about Stiles' trips in a short lull between dates and make-out sessions with Allison.

Stiles shrugged, unsure how to explain that he enjoyed the silence of the forest that contrasted with the continuing hum of thoughts in his brain. He did mention the animals he'd befriended and the potions ingredients he was bringing back for his own experiments and occasionally -- in the form of a bribe -- for the Potion Master's own supplies. Scott seemed happy enough with that, though Stiles figured it may have been because of the flying pink memo that landed in front of them, obviously from Allison, who'd been asked to assist in a lecture about foreign schools of magic.

"Dude, I…" Scott tried for an apologetic expression after reading the memo, and Stiles waved him off, all too used to their conversations being interrupted.

"Go, Scotty, nurture the love you guys have," Stiles said, his tone a little bitter, though not enough for his best friend to notice.

Left to his own devices yet again, Stiles dropped off his bag in the boys' dormitory and followed the familiar path towards the front doors of the school. The groundskeeper on duty -- a new addition to the school -- gave him a sideways glance but didn't make any attempt at stopping Stiles from heading towards the tree line. Stiles hesitated for a second; the man -- he'd been introduced as Deaton at the feast a few weeks earlier, but Stiles didn’t remember much else, having been too busy eyeing the feast in front of him -- was still too new not to question an underage student about the potentially suspicious trip. But then Stiles shook off his own doubts, and he slipped past the first few trees and bushes, hiding out of sight before Deaton changed his mind.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep," Stiles whispered to himself, the Frost poem a comfort whenever he became uneasy in the forest.

It didn't happen often, but sometimes he remembered that the area up to the edge of the school grounds was filled with not only trees and inanimate objects but also several kinds of magical creatures. The staff did keep anything dangerous away from the area Stiles liked to visit, but the knowledge didn't stop the hair on the back of his neck from standing up occasionally.

He stopped when he reached a small clearing that he knew would be filled with herbs he liked to stock up on. It didn't take long before he'd filled the seemingly small satchel he brought along with berries and plants, all nicely stashed away in jars and put inside the extended interior of his bag. Engrossed in examining an unfamiliar growth next to one of the bushes on the edge of the clearing, Stiles almost missed the rustle of leaves that came from the other side.

His eyes did snap up, though, and immediately he wished he hadn't looked up. A big black dog-shaped shadow stood between the two big trees across from him, and Stiles' mind jumped to the image he'd tried hard to repress for years.

_Grim_ , his brain supplied.

Stiles was frozen on the spot, unsure whether he should run or pretend he was dead. Before he'd made a decision, the shadow started retreating back into the forest, a low growl carrying across the clearing to Stiles' ears. When it was gone, Stiles backed away into the trees too, and made his way back to the school, glad that he hadn't strayed too far. It was only when he stepped out into the open space around the school buildings that he stopped looking over his shoulder and listening for the growl.

As he settled into his pillows that night, the last thought on his mind was that unlike what he knew about the Grim, the shadow's eyes seemed to be glowing blue.


	2. From the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Laura expected was walking into the staff room and being met with a face from the past that she thought she left far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the Full Moon Ficlet prompt #123: Condition

The last thing Laura expected was walking into the staff room and being met with a face from the past that she thought she had left far behind. It sent a jolt through her as memories flooded back into her mind at the sight of Alan Deaton, who was sitting at the main table, flipping through sheets of parchment and tapping a finger against an unassuming mug. Before she could make a decision on whether to face him or slip back out of the door, he looked up and met her eyes.

For a moment, they both just stared, and Laura searched his face for a clue to his thoughts, her heart beating loud enough to overwhelm all other sounds around them. Deaton's face was blank though, a sight that was all too similar to what Laura remembered from her childhood.

"Miss Hale," he said finally, quietly enough so that if there were other people in the room, they probably wouldn't hear it.

Laura did, and she nodded a little automatically, acknowledging the name and Deaton recognizing her. He'd always been a man of very few words, and those that he did have were a mystery to almost everyone around him.

"I didn't think I'd find you here," Deaton said then, his eyes still focused on her face like he was searching for something. "Last I heard, you were in New York."

Finally -- partly because of the easy conversational tone in Deaton's voice and partly because she didn't know what else to do -- Laura took a few steps until she reached his table, and she slipped into one of the chairs opposite him.

"That was some time ago," Laura spoke quietly. "We didn't know where else to go, after…"

Deaton nodded in acknowledgment and understanding of the words she didn't --  _ couldn't _ \-- say, even though years had passed.

"It's a pleasant surprise," Deaton said then, a soft smile playing on his lips, fondness in his face that Laura was curious about but not brave enough to address.

That was all it took to start a conversation between them, one they were still lost in when other professors and staff started filling the room for their break.

***

It didn’t take long for them to strike up what Laura tentatively called “friendship.” She still felt a little uncomfortable calling him Alan, the way the name rolled off her tongue bringing back too many memories of the past, but he had a connection that she wasn't willing to sacrifice for comfort. Deaton wasn't in Salem by accident -- she didn't hang on to that idea for more than their first two conversations -- and she knew he was possibly the only one who could help.

Of course, she also realized very quickly that he had taken notice of the same person she had a long time ago. When Deaton brought up Stiles and his frequent trips into the woods around the school, Laura didn't spill the beans immediately, didn't give away her suspicions on what importance Stiles could have. She did, however, eventually bring up Stiles' eagerness to learn.

"Maybe I could point him in the right direction," she said one day, her mind on the secrets of the forest, on what she knew it was hiding.

"On one condition," Deaton said after he nodded.

Laura raised an eyebrow, because she expected a cryptic answer or a deflection.

"Don't  _ tell _ him," Deaton told her, the words crystal clear to her, though vague enough that no one else would understand. "Let him figure it out by himself."

"Okay," Laura said. "Are you going to tell me why?"

"If Stiles can do what we both think he can," Deaton said with a raised eyebrow, like he was challenging her to try and ask him for clarification, "then he will not need it spelled out."

Laura nodded and hoped that whatever Deaton's plan was, it would have the results she was hoping for. She let herself think of what was lurking in the woods, of the blue eyes that haunted her dreams, and of the kid who might just be the key to bringing back what she lost. When Deaton looked towards the front door of the school, she turned that way just in time to see Stiles sneaking out again, and her heart sped up.

"He's got the spark to make it happen," Deaton said when Stiles disappeared into the forest.

"I hope so, Alan, I really do," Laura whispered, and her mind was already cataloguing books that she'd need to push Stiles in the right direction.


	3. Eyes on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'd gotten their hands on a bottle of mead, completely legally obtained from the inn in the village near the school, and Stiles drew the line at getting drunk all alone, especially out in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the Full Moon Ficlet prompt #117: Intoxication.

Even though he was aware that sometimes magical laws directly contradicted Muggle ones, John Stilinski still liked to follow the ones he had grown up with and was sworn in to uphold. That notwithstanding, when Stiles came back from his first year at the Salem Witches' Institute, they had a long discussion about why rules set by the school and the magical world laws should be followed when he isn't _at school_.

It was brought on by Stiles' attempt to talk his father into allowing him to use magic -- it was not forbidden by any Muggle law, after all -- even though Stiles was still underage, and therefore not allowed to use it outside of a controlled school environment.

"But Dad, I need to do my summer homework!" Stiles whined when John put his foot down and confiscated Stiles' wand.

"All of which is strictly essays and theoretical work," John said with a stern frown. "There is no need for you to summon anything, or do practical spellwork. You will _not_ forget how to use your wand in two months."

The discussion happened every summer since then, the only difference being the smirk on Stiles' lips when John mentioned wand use. That was the one thing that John tried his hardest to ignore, for both of their sakes, because neither of them was all too eager to explore conversations that the double meaning would bring up. When Stiles came home for a break during his Sixth Year, the birds and the bees topic was shelved for another one: Stiles being of age under magical law, but still underage by Muggle standards.

"Dad, no," Stiles said with a groan and a blush. "I _know_ I'm underage, but I mean, I can't get Lyd… my classmates to look at me twice, let alone anyone older. We totally don't have to have _the talk_ ," he finished, mimicking air quotes.

"I'm… that's not…" John cringed at the thought of discussing his son's -- however nonexistent -- sex life. "Lydia still hung up on Jackson, then?" He directed the topic to what he thought was safe for the moment.

"Yeah, still being the school power couple." Stiles sighed, and John watched his shoulders fall. "I mean, I don't know what she sees in him, besides the whole Quodpot captain thing."

"It's her loss, kid," John tried to say with an encouraging and supportive tone. "But that isn't what I was worried about when I brought up the age thing."

"I promise I will _not_ set the house on fire or summon elves to do my chores," Stiles said then, trying for solemn but bursting into a laugh when he saw his Dad's shocked expression. "Yes, house elves are a thing, no, it's not against any human laws considering they're not, well, _human_."

John shook his head, some things about the magical world still a complete mystery to him, even after all the years that he'd spent dealing with it. But then he took a deep breath, and steeled himself for the conversation he'd set out to have with Stiles before it got derailed.

"I was going to talk to you about drinking," he said.

"Oh." Stiles sagged a little in his chair, a frown crinkling his forehead.

They both remembered John's unfortunate closeness to the bottle after Claudia died, neither of them fond of that particular memory. It didn't last long, fortunately, but Stiles' memories of the empty bottles that he'd come back to enough times to raise concern were not easy to erase.

"Dad, I…"

"Listen, kid," John interrupted Stiles by raising a hand as he spoke. "I know I don't have a good record in that, and I am _not_ going to tell you that you'll still have to wait until you're legally allowed to drink according to regular laws… well no," he paused, and he tried to find the right words to say. "I _will_ reinforce those laws while you're here, because they do apply when you're in a non-magical household, under the roof of an officer of said law."

Stiles nodded, acknowledging the unspoken words about how breaking the Muggle law while at home could get John into trouble.

"I can't control what you do at school, and I am not entirely sure how they apply our laws there," John continued. "But just… be careful, Stiles, okay?"

"Dad, I'm not going to go and get wasted all by myself," Stiles said, and he grimaced. "Scott won't turn seventeen for a little  while, and it's not like I have other friends to go drinking with."

"Stiles…"

"No, it's not… I'm not saying that so you start the whole ' _you need to make more friends_ ' thing," Stiles rushed the words out. "I do have other friends now, they're just…"

"Not Scott," John finished when Stiles paused.

"Yeah."

"Okay. But if the opportunity arises…"

"I won't drink and drive, I _will_ stay in a safe place, and I will have someone to call in an emergency, I promise, Dad," Stiles said with a smile.

"Good, that's… good talk, kid." John nodded and then quickly turned to the stove, busying himself with finishing the breakfast that he was working on before Stiles stumbled sleepily into the kitchen earlier.

A few weeks later the talk flashed back through Stiles' mind and added a layer of mild guilt to his trip into the forest, this one with Scott for company. But they'd gotten their hands on a bottle of mead, completely legally obtained from the inn in the village near the school, and Stiles drew the line at getting drunk all alone, especially out in the forest.

"Scotty? Scott," Stiles said, his tongue heavy in his mouth when they were nearing the bottom of the bottle. "Bro, this is awesome."

There was a quiet acknowledging hum from where Scott was spread out on the ground, dewy and soft grass making the meadow they chose comfortable. Stiles had his eyes pointed at the sky that he could see through the gaps between the trees surrounding them, stars bright against the inky blue of the night.

"I mean, it's almost _magic_ ," Stiles said, and laughed. "Magic, Scotty, get it?"

Another hum was followed by noises of Scott shuffling a little closer, though Stiles could hear from the sounds that Scott was even less sober, his movement sluggish and uncoordinated.

"We're gonna do this again, when you're seventeen," Stiles spoke up again after a few minutes of silence.

He made an attempt to sit up, but when his head started spinning, Stiles fell backwards onto the grassy ground again. Somehow, he managed to turn to face Scott, and he barely held back the giggle at his best friend's dazed and blissful expression.

"Into… int… intoxi… being drunk is _fun_ ," Stiles said, stumbling over the words he was trying to say.

"Yeah," Scott replied with a full word -- Stiles considered being impressed, but then his mind latched on to Scott's voice: a dazed tone usually reserved for when he was talking about Allison.

He'd never heard that kind of a tone when his Dad was drunk, and he guessed that Scott's father had not sounded like that either when he hit the bottle. That thought alone was a little sobering, and Stiles' vision cleared a little as the rational part of his brain kicked in. If he hadn't, he'd have probably missed it.

There was a pair of eyes in the dark between the leaves of shrubs on the edge of the meadow, this time unmistakably bright blue and _glowing_. Stiles moved his arm to nudge Scott, but then something stopped him. It wasn't conscious, but somewhere in his mind, a thought formed that made him hesitate in alerting Scott to their company. The eyes didn't move closer, and whatever the creature was -- Stiles' memory of the Grim resurfaced, along with the one of seeing the same blue eyes in the forest before -- it didn't seem to want to come any closer. And despite the glow from its eyes that made Stiles' mind roll back towards rationality and figuring out what it was, it felt safe with the dark guardian watching them from the shrubbery.

When Scott moved to get off the ground, Stiles' eyes darted in his direction. By the time he looked back after steadying Scott and preventing him from toppling over, there was no sign of anything in the bushes where Stiles could still imagine the pair of fascinatingly glowing eyes. He got up with a groan, and they headed back towards the school, Stiles' mind clear and sober again as it tried to figure out what exactly he'd seen.

Stiles didn't mention what he saw to Scott, nor to anyone else, partly because he didn't want anyone to laugh at him, or thing that he'd gone crazy. He knew that bringing up the Grim would've gotten him eye rolls and exasperation, especially from people like Lydia and Danny -- both rational and not believing in superstitions. Scott would probably just assume that Stiles was drunk and imagining things.

"Weren’t you told to stay away from those?" A librarian asked when he got tossed back from the shelf with books on superstitions.

She was new, only in the school that year, but his snooping was obviously notorious enough that even newcomers were warned about him.

"It's been years," Stiles protested, remembering how her colleague put up the wards back in his first year.

"Doesn't mean you're that much smarter now," she said.

Stiles pretended to be offended, but he didn't miss the fondness in the librarian's tone. She was one of his favorite people in the school, and he'd won her over through the year with not only bribes in the form of food from the kitchen but also with his eagerness to read and learn.

"What do you need those books for?"

He hesitated, because somehow an  "I saw this huge black thing with glowing eyes" explanation would feel like crossing a line. So he shrugged, hoping his innate curiosity would be enough of an answer to the librarian, who was still focusing on his face like she was looking for lies.

"I'll just," Stiles started a moment later, already forming plans on how to get the book about omens out of its current shelf.

"Wait," the librarian called out to him when he started retreating towards the door. "Have this instead," she said and shoved a heavy book in Stiles' hands.

Stiles frowned and narrowed his eyes at the cover, a dark wolf on the front, designed to look like he was howling at the moon.

_Wolves_ , he thought when he read the title. _Wait, what?_


	4. Dust In The Stacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wondered about wolves for a while, but only until he realized they didn't live around Salem anymore. But then the librarian suggested a book with a drawing of a full moon on the cover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the Full Moon Ficlet prompt #118: divinity

With the amount of time that Stiles spent on reading his newly acquired book on wolves, it was no surprise that Scott started asking questions. It took a while, because everyone was used to not only Stiles' constant reading and carrying various books around but also his habit of fixating on a topic until he had it all figured out. Weeks passed though, and Stiles was still wondering why the librarian gave him a book on animals that had been extirpated from the state a long time ago.

He still hadn't told anyone about the black animal -- he refused to think of it as The Grim, even though he'd still not found any other animal that would look similar -- that he'd seen in the forest. The book on canines that existed in the Muggle and magical part of the world didn't help much either. While the drawing on the cover was the closest to the one he remembered from the book on death omens, it was something closer to fairy tale books and fantasies.

"You planning on looking into Animagi?"

Scott was eyeing the book again like he had been since Stiles came back from the library clutching it to his chest.  They were supposed to be studying in the study hall that was adjacent to their bedroom, but Stiles had his nose in the book that held his interest better.

"No, I…" Stiles said, and then he hesitated as the thought registered in his mind. "Well, I wasn't really until now."

He was surprised that the thought hadn't crossed his mind before, though the book had an entire section on lycans, their history and various types.

"Crap," Scott mumbled quietly, then he shook his head with a smile. "What do you think you'd turn into if you were an Animagus?"

"I don't know," Stiles said and shrugged his shoulders.

"A fox."

Stiles whipped his head around towards the voice that stated the words with determination, leaving no room for debate. Lydia was standing behind him, her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk playing on her lips.

"What?" Stiles blurted, and he was glad that he hadn't been drinking or eating just before she spoke.

"You're cheeky, smart, and sly." She was listing the qualities like she'd thought about them before, and Stiles tried to figure out whether to blush or preen at what sounded like praise to his ears. "You are strong, though not physically, and you're hard to trick, because you like to play pranks and outwit people. Definitely a fox soul," Lydia finished, her voice carrying a tone of 'do not argue with me,' which Stiles was used to.

"Thank you?"

He didn't mean to say the words as a question, but he wasn't sure how she meant them. From his previous interactions with Lydia -- though they've become more frequent in the past few months -- it could've been a compliment as much as an insult.

Lydia walked away then, since neither Scott nor Stiles said anything for a while, both of them surprised she talked to them at all. Stiles was still reeling from her words when Scott pushed his textbooks into his bag and got up.

"I have to go commune with gods," he said, eyeing the table across the study hall where Allison was getting up from her chair too.

"How many times do I have to tell you," Stiles said, and his gaze followed Scott's to Allison's table, "that none of the stuff in Divination is actually in any way related to divinity."

"But…" Scott started saying, but Stiles held up a hand because he knew where the protesting words were headed.

"It may have _the name_ derived from the study of gods, but there's nothing theological about reading tea leaves and making up predictions through astrology," Stiles rattled out the words he'd said multiple times before.

"Tell that to Miss Morrell," Scott said, and then he groaned. "I bet you she'll have us do palm readings followed by an essay on why fun fair readers cannot possibly be genuine."

"It serves you right for keeping up with the class." Stiles laughed at the expression on Scott's face. "You could've dropped it when I did and continued with something more useful."

"Like I would stand a chance in Runes or Arithmancy," Scott said. "I'll leave those up to those of you who can pass without collapsing before and after exams."

"Also, Allison," Stiles challenged with a raised eyebrow, and he felt satisfied when his words were met with a blush on Scott's face.

"Well, maybe I'll have something more for you about the Grim," Scott said after a beat, obviously trying to change the topic. "You never know, we might find out that the Grim really is only a werewolf mistaken for something more sinister. Though how something would be creepier than that is beyond me."

Scott walked away then without waiting for a response from Stiles, because Allison was standing nearby and shooting impatient glances between Scott and the door to the hallway. Stiles was glad about it, because from the moment that Scott's words connected the Grim with werewolves, Stiles' mind began turning as he tried to match that possibility with the information he knew from his research.

He glanced at the book in front of him and closed it to look at the cover, the drawing still the same wolf howling at the moon as it had been when he got it.

_The librarian_ , he thought.

That was a link to not only the mystery of the blue eyed -- something, Stiles didn't think he could use the word “monster” or “animal” -- maybe-Grim in the forest, but also to the connection between the bad omen superstition and werewolves.

A little while later he was in the library, browsing through the section on magical creatures, shape-shifters and Animagi . The fact that the librarian who gave him the first book that led him down this path wasn't on duty didn't strike him as odd. She'd been there every time he succumbed to the urge to research his extracurricular topic, but Stiles was too busy following the train of thought that Scott's off-hand remark sparked.

Werewolves hadn't crossed his mind before, not to the point of considering a connection to what he saw in the woods, and Stiles berated himself a little for not thinking of that possibility. It made sense to at least look into it; he knew that now that he was seeing wolf shapes on covers of the books that were quickly piling up on the trolley that he summoned after the fourth book almost dropped out of his arms. He peeked at books on Animagi but decided to leave those for another day, too fascinated with the different titles of books dealing with lycanthropy.

"You can't check all of those out," the librarian on duty told him when he and the trolley made it back to the front section with the tables. "And you can't _sleep_ here either," she added when Stiles opened his mouth.

"I wasn't going to!" Stiles protested immediately, even though he knew the librarian probably remembered him trying to do just that at least once. "I wanted to ask if I could set up a study corner with these," he said and pointed to the pile of books. "I don't want to forget which ones I wanted to look into."

He was considering further pleas and bribery when a familiar figure stepped into the space behind the desk.

"You've progressed from the book I suggested then?" The librarian who'd given him the first book that apparently should have led him exactly to the section he almost emptied was smiling at him with what Stiles could also describe as glee.

"Miss Hale," Stiles said, a hint of relief coloring his voice. "Do you think…"

He didn't get to finish the question, though; he was still speaking when she waved her wand at the trolley and sent it into a corner that Stiles knew could be reserved for prolonged study sessions.

"How many times do I need to remind you that you should call me Laura?" she said when he looked back from where his books moved to.

"I just," Stiles stopped when he saw the other librarian's -- he could never remember her name, because he kept calling her Miss Crank in his head since she was always the one who sent him back to his bedroom or to class -- face looking like thunder. "I'm sorry," he said instead of a snarky remark that died on his tongue.

Stiles then rushed over to the table that had his books spread out in what seemed to be a reading order. When he glanced back to the main desk, Laura was nowhere to be seen and the other librarian was focusing on glaring at dog-eared corners on a returned book.

"She's obviously trying to tell me _something_ ," Stiles muttered under his breath as he looked over the books and their covers. "I guess I might as well," he added and reached for the first book in the row.

Hours later, he was pulled out of his research spiral by Scott, who came to alert Stiles that it was nearly curfew time and way past dinner. Stiles reluctantly got up from the table, and he only relaxed when he felt a barrier go up around his study corner after he moved a few steps.

"You're lucky it's Friday," Scott said as they walked towards the bedrooms. "Professor Finstock didn't even notice you missed dinner, he was too busy rambling about permission forms for the village again. Like we didn't give them to him last month. Again."

Stiles ignored Scott's rambling since it quickly turned into a rant about how the date he had planned for the next visit to the nearby wizard village had been cancelled because Allison was going to meet her parents there instead. When they got to the bedroom -- not without a small detour into the kitchen to forage for dinner leftovers -- Stiles and Scott dove towards their beds and they both fell asleep before they got to talk about Stiles' research project.

The blue eyes he'd seen in the forest were the only thing he could remember from his dreams that night.


	5. Mischief Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You know, for an act of teenage rebellion in the form of sneaking out into the woods, there are easier ways than to try and transform yourself into a mouse."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the Full Moon Ficlet prompt #119: Rebellion

"Hey, I meant to ask you the other day," Scott said, his mouth still half-full with breakfast that they were trying to scarf down quickly before heading to their first class, "How did your research go?"

"Ugh," Stiles groaned, and then he pushed his plate towards the center of the table. "I'm coming up with nothing that would make sense. I mean, obviously in the Muggle literature, there's nothing on shapeshifters of any kind, and everything on Animagi is confusing."

"Dude, you're the one who aced Transfiguration," Scott said, his voice filled with awe and surprise. "If you don't get it, I don't know how anyone _ever_ manages to transform themselves."

"It's because transfiguring yourself into an animal can't be _described_ in books," Lydia said, startling both Stiles and Scott who didn't hear or see her approaching. "Doing it isn't quite as hard when you understand the thought process behind it."

"Have you studied it, Lydia?" Stiles was genuinely curious, and his mind immediately began spinning with thoughts on what she would transform into.

"No," Lydia said and shook her head. "But we've talked about it with Professor Deaton, he worked with shapeshifters his whole life."

"Wait a second, _Professor_?"

Stiles gaped at her, and a beat later his eyebrows scrunched into a frown. He knew the name, and he knew the man Lydia was referring to, but he thought Deaton was a groundskeeper, not a professor. Both Scott and Stiles were used to seeing him around the school entrance whenever they ventured out into the forest, though admittedly neither of them ever stopped to think about Deaton's job at the school. He was new, and he never stopped them from leaving the safety of the building, so Stiles figured it was better to keep quiet.

"Yes, he doesn't teach any of the regular classes, though," Lydia explained, her eyes conveying how little she thought of Stiles' lack of knowledge about the teaching staff. "He was hired to consult on Animagi and to mediate between werewolf packs in the US and in Europe. Apparently ours are a lot more civilized and able to function in Muggle and magical society without maiming people every full moon."

"I've read about that," Scott jumped in, "My mom had this book on the history of the Wolfsbane Potion, because the hospital insisted on everyone taking a course on it or something."

Lydia nodded, and Stiles was about to ask her for more information when he noticed the time and realized he was going to be late for his Runes class. He grabbed his bag and rushed off with a quick "talk to you later" to both Scott and Lydia.

The rest of his day went by in a blur of classes he wasn't paying attention to, because his mind kept jumping back to the stack of books he still had on a table in the library but with the additional layer of wondering about Professor Deaton. There was something slightly unsettling in the knowledge that a _teacher_ knew about Stiles' trips into the forest and something intriguing about that teacher being one who specialized in animal transformation.

_How To Become an Animagus_ was the title that Stiles' eyes were drawn to the moment he walked to his table -- at least that's how he referred to the desks and trolleys in the corner that held all his books -- and glanced over the covers of the books he already read. He knew the book, had read it through once completely, and then couldn't help but peek into it even when he was reading something else.

"You know," Laura said as she came up to him just as he picked the book up and eyed it with curiosity, "For an act of teenage rebellion in the form of sneaking out into the woods, there are easier ways than to try and transform yourself into a mouse. And you'd be too suspicious as anything bigger."

"I wasn't going to," Stiles said and dropped the book back on the table. "I mean, even if I was, that wouldn't be the best material to study from."

Laura nodded knowingly and then glanced towards the book with what Stiles could only describe as disdain. He wondered why she didn't like the book so much and how much she judged him for picking it up at all.

"You'd make a nice enough fox, though," Laura then said, and she was already turning around to walk back to the main desk when the words registered in Stiles' mind.

"Do you know Lydia?" He blurted out the question and watched as Laura looked back over her shoulder. "About yea high," he said and motioned to his shoulder with his hand, "beyond genius, spent the first three years of her studies almost exclusively in the library."

"I've only been here a few months," Laura said, and the tone in her voice almost apologetic. "But if she's as smart as you think, she'd have figured out what your Animagus form would be pretty fast. You're not hard to read, Stiles."

"Oh," Stiles said, and then he watched Laura walk away while he was trying to sort through the not so new pieces of information.

By the time his brain returned to normal, Laura was nowhere to be seen, and Stiles realized that he needed to get to Quodpot practice. He didn't do much better at focusing there, his mind drifting off to his research and the possibility of becoming an Animagus.

"Maybe you should talk to Professor Deaton," Scott said a few days later, when Stiles finally talked to him about the conversation with Laura and how much it had bugged him since.

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles replied with hesitation.

The forest was quiet around them this time, but Stiles couldn't stop looking for the now familiar shape of the blue eyes. _Maybe I'd figure out what you are that way_ , he thought, already trying to figure out how long it would take him to learn how to transform.

In the end he didn't talk to the professor suggested by both Lydia and Laura, because he stumbled on the history of a group of friends at a school in Europe who have become Animagi illegally. When he read the snippets he managed to find -- there wasn't much since no one seemed willing to promote _how_ they learned to change -- Stiles' mind drifted to Laura’s comment about rebelling. He thought of his Dad and how the lack of learning the necessary magic through the conventional channels would be more to his liking.

But Stiles also looked into that, and knew that the study and training itself would possibly take years. That was time that he didn't have, since he only had a year left at the school, and the sole reason for looking into becoming an Animagus was rooted in the forest around it.

"Dude, you can't _not_ register," Scott said, his tone almost panicky, when Stiles talked about the three friends who learned the transformation for a fourth friend, to be able to stay with him during full moons. "I mean, you'd end up in prison, and I've heard stories about Alcatraz."

Of course, the formerly Muggle prison that was now enchanted to look normal while magical prisoners were kept in a part of it, away from the prying eyes of the public. Stiles knew enough about it to know that it was the last place he wanted to end up in, but he wasn't about to tell Scott that his worries were more about being able to learn how to transform and survive that.

"It's not like I'm actually doing this, Scott," Stiles said, trying to defend himself against the accusation that he'd break laws.

Scott leveled him with a look that conveyed pretty clearly that he wasn't buying Stiles' words and that he knew Stiles well enough to know that the option wasn't off the table yet.

"Why are you so fascinated with it anyway?" Scott asked, and he peeked over Stiles' shoulder at the latest in the series of books that Stiles was carrying around and reading everywhere. "It's not like you have all that much free time, what with the amount of classes you've taken on, which I still think is insane."

"Lydia is in all of them," Stiles shrugged, like including the school's resident Hermione Granger -- the stories about the Great War and the people at the center of it were legendary even outside Britain -- was in any way a sign that his workload was nothing special.

Scott rolled his eyes, confirming that Stiles' defense was weak.

"It would be useful," Stiles said, and he slammed the _Creatures of the Moon_ book in his hands shut. "If Lydia and Laura are right, just imagine how great it would be if I could be a fox. And what if you end up bitten by a werewolf?"

He laughed then, hoping that Scott would see it as a harmless joke. There was still a stigma against werewolves in the country, most of it because of the bad rep that came from European stories about the lack of control of werewolves during the full moon. Stiles didn't believe all of it, especially since a part of his research led him to completely different information on American wolf packs and shapeshifters.

"Dude, if you want to go howling at the moon, we can do that any day out in the forest," Scott said, and he chuckled.

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief when the seriousness of their conversation shifted to a talk about their next trip out into the woods. But while Scott's mind was clearly only concerned with not wanting to break any rules besides the one about drinking, Stiles' mind was staging a little riot.

Once more, his thoughts led him to the professor that continued to eye him with more curiosity than suspicion whenever he slipped out into the forest -- Stiles' trips out there were becoming almost regular -- and never once stopped Stiles from going.

_Does he know about what's out there?_

It wasn't a thought that Stiles was unfamiliar with, because ever since Deaton's name started coming up in conversations, it was clear that the professor had knowledge beyond all books when it came to wolves.

"You know, I think I'll go talk to Deaton," Stiles said, realizing that Scott had finished rambling about their plans for going out into the woods.

"Cool," Scott said, but Stiles knew that his comment was falling on deaf ears, since Allison was walking towards their table.

Not too keen on watching Scott crash and burn as he tried to flirt yet again, Stiles got up and decided that it was time to talk to some people who might know more than the books could teach him -- Deaton and Laura.


	6. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"There's a reason why the process takes years at times, Stiles," Lydia said with a hint of exasperation in her voice. "It's beyond the Institute's level of magic, and however brilliant you might be, you can't do this alone. Or keep it secret," she added with a raised eyebrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the Full Moon Ficlet prompt #122: Lurk.

Stiles' quest to find either Professor Deaton or Laura and to try and get better insight about the creature he'd seen in the woods ended up fruitless. Not only could he not track down Laura at all -- the other librarians never seemed to know when she would be on duty, which frustrated Stiles to no end -- Professor Deaton was all of a sudden nowhere to be found either. So instead, Stiles retreated to his usual spot in the library and dove into the books again.

"You're an idiot," Lydia told Stiles when she found him in one of the study rooms.

He was knee-deep in books on Animagi, on the process of becoming one, on requirements and on the legalities of registration. Even without their short conversation on the topic that they had before, Lydia  -- being the genius that Stiles knew her to be -- would have of course needed only one glance at the books to know what he was planning.

"There's a reason why the process takes years at times, Stiles," she said with a hint of exasperation in her voice. "It's beyond the Institute's level of magic, and however brilliant you might be, you can't do this alone. Or keep it secret," she added with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not like I wasn't planning on registering." Stiles pouted. "Just… after. And I can't exactly bring Scott into this, he'd at the very least tell Allison, and that would likely not end well."

"You have a point," Lydia said, and then she narrowed her eyes at the books. "But it's still not something you should be doing alone. What were you planning to do if something went wrong?"

Stiles knew the answer was mostly "panic and then go to a teacher," which would have led to his plans being found out. It wasn't like he could talk his way out of animal transformation by saying that it was a mistake or an experiment gone wrong. When Lydia's expression turned into a smug smirk, he knew that she wasn't expecting an answer that she already knew.

"I'm not going to ask _why_ you're looking into this, or why you're so determined to do yourself harm by being absolutely reckless," she said when Stiles didn't answer her. "But I'm actually interested in it too, and you're the only wizard I know who has the potential to make this work."

Stiles' eyebrows shot up at her words because he still revelled in any sort of praise that Lydia threw in his direction -- hell, he settled for her acknowledging his presence sometimes -- but he didn't understand where she was going with her comments.

"Thank you?" Stiles said with uncertainty ringing through the words.

"Thank me when we're successful," Lydia said and smirked.

Her bag thumped against the table when she dropped it down, and Stiles' mouth opened and closed twice when he watched Lydia sit down next to him and grab for one of the books.

"You're helping me?" he asked and almost slapped himself for the redundant question. "Why?"

"You said it yourself," Lydia said, not turning her eyes away from the book she was flipping through, "Scott wouldn't be any use with this, and he'd probably rat you out. I don't think there's anyone else in the school smart and capable enough to be at our level. And frankly," she finally looked at Stiles, "I'm curious."

"If I can do it?"

"No," Lydia said with a shake of her head. "I'm wondering what animal you'll turn into. I wonder if I was right about the fox."

"Oh."

Stiles didn't know what else to say, but Lydia was already focused on the books again, so he shrugged and pulled one of the tomes closer. Soon, they were swapping snippets from what they were reading, Stiles taking notes in invisible ink as he'd gotten used to doing for his personal projects, Lydia frowning until he told her how to reveal the notes with a spell he'd found years ago in his Mom's old notebook.

They had to take a break eventually, go back to their classes, but in the days that followed, Stiles found himself lurking around Lydia's classes and the girls' rooms. She didn't chastise him -- though Stiles did find himself at the end of one of her disapproving looks -- and more often than not she joined him for a research session. Stiles was still wrapping his mind around whatever they were then -- friends, maybe? -- because he was still half in love with her, still amazed by her intelligence and talent, and still left breathless at times by her looks. But they worked together well as he found out, both of their minds too fast for anyone else to keep up, and he was too immersed in his quest to figure out how to be an Animagus to let his obsession with Lydia distract him.

It wasn't until a few weeks later, when he was finally wearing Lydia down to let him _try_ to transform, that he decided it was time to revisit the corner of the library where the books on omens were still shrouded in a protection spell. The image of the Grim was still the closest to what Stiles had seen in the forest, and he couldn't help but wonder if reading about the bad omen would help him figure it all out. He'd practiced human transformations in class -- Allison turned out to be a Metamorphmagus, and she put everyone else to shame with changes that came to her naturally -- and he mastered a fairly simple but effective disguise the day before. With the changes firmly on his face and body, Stiles snuck past the older librarian at the front desk and slowly made his way to the shelves that had been taunting him for a long time.

He was never very good at being sneaky, but he felt a little bolder and more confident with his transformation, which somehow translated into being smoother than he ever managed to be before. Just as he was about to reach for the one book that he remembered leafing through before his access to the whole section got blocked, there was a shiver that shook the air around him. Before he could move away, a hand clamped on his shoulder, and Stiles turned to face whoever it was that caught him.

"Stiles," Laura said with an exasperated tone. "I should've known you'd try and circumvent the wards. Wait, I _did_ know, which is why we're here."

"How did you know?" Stiles asked, his face showing his dismay at the failure of his plan.

"The wards are set up to keep you out, disguise or not," Laura said, and she shrugged. "That does include your tinkering with human Transfiguration."

"Oh," Stiles breathed out.

There was no way he'd have been able to hide his disappointment, even without the changed features, but they made it all the more obvious because he wasn't able to control them as easily as his own face.

"Why are you so intent on scarring yourself for life with those books?" Laura asked and pointed to the restricted shelves.

"There's a thing…" Stiles started, and then it dawned on him that he never told anyone at all about what he'd seen in the woods.

Laura didn't speak, but she raised an eyebrow, which to Stiles roughly translated to “ _please continue_.”

"Nothing, it's just… I want to know," he said then, pushing away the memory of the blue eyes and the creature that was the reason for his Animagi study.

"It's not what you think," Laura said then cryptically, and before Stiles could try and ask her more, she walked back towards the front of the library.

When he got his wits back, Stiles rushed to where she headed, but as he reached the counter, Laura was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he was met with the very disapproving expression in Lydia's face, and he let himself be led towards what was ”their” table in the corner.

"Lyds, I need to," Stiles started barely ten minutes into their research, and cringed a little when Lydia looked up from the notes she was taking from one of the texts.

"All this," she said and pointed to the books spread out on the table, "has something to do with the woods, doesn't it?"

Stiles spluttered at the accuracy of her question, because he never told her about the reason he started researching the topic nor why he pursued it so stubbornly. Scott still didn't know how dedicated Stiles was to becoming an Animagus, and Stiles was reluctant about telling his best friend, especially since he wasn't sure it would ever work.

"Yeah," Stiles said after a pause, his eyes turning to the table. "It's … I don't know what's out there, but I think not being human is the only way I can find out."

"You could ask Professor Deaton, you know?" Lydia told him.

"I would, only I can't seem to find him anywhere since the last time you or Laura suggested I talk to him," Stiles said with an exasperated tone. "I mean, he was _always_ there when I was heading …"

"Sneaking out," Lydia interrupted, her lips turned into a small smile.

Stiles glared at her, but he knew it would have exactly zero intimidating effect.

"It's not like I spent the time lurking around there trying to find whatever or whoever it was that I saw before," he said defensively. "Deaton was near the main gates most of the times I've headed out, and I suspect even some of the times when I didn't see him. Now though," Stiles said, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration, and he followed it with a sigh as he slumped against the table.

"Look, go out, get your head away from all this," Lydia said and pointed to the notes and textbooks, "and when you're done communing with the forest, we can find a quiet room to try."

Stiles stared at her in disbelief, because it was the first time Lydia seemed to entertain the notion of them moving on to practice. Not giving her a chance to change her mind, Stiles scrambled up -- he was pretty proud that only one sheet of paper slipped to the floor -- and he rushed out of the deserted library, immediately heading in the direction of the front gates.

Maybe he'd never figure out the transformation, maybe he'd screw up, but right then he needed a reminder of why he started on the quest to learn the necessary magic. The forest itself would help, and if Stiles was lucky, he'd even come across the pair of eyes that he couldn't forget.


	7. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he does need to go back to the woods, needs a reminder of why he's trying so hard to crack the secret of becoming an Animagus. It's the only place Stiles can think of to get some answers, and motivation to continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many many thanks to my darling Nas for the piece of art within this chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to write the chapter to go with it, but the pressure to match your beautiful art was high!

Just like any of the times when he went out into the woods, Stiles was not expecting to actually see anyone or anything. This time, that included Professor Deaton, who wasn't anywhere around the entrance, though Stiles was sneaking out a little more cautiously than the times before. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of the man, though, because he had more questions than Lydia  _ could _ \-- however unlikely that was -- and more than Laura would answer.

However, he walked out and past the tree line without being noticed or stopped, and soon the noises of the forest were the only thing around him. It wasn't silence; he could hear the rustling of the leaves in the mild breeze, the distant sounds from the other side of the school's grounds, the cracking of the branches and leaves under his feet. But it was a lot less external stimuli than being inside the building, surrounded by his classmates and the busy life that could be expected from any school, let alone a school of magic with its bursts of spell practice and wizards still unequipped to control their skill.

"If you go down to the woods today," Stiles sang quietly, slightly off-key because musical talent wasn't one of the things he was gifted with.

There was an eerie quietness after he passed the tree line, and it made Stiles slow down and tense a little. He wasn't scared, but the noises of the forest seemed to have died down, and his brain conjured up images of a rather creepy version of the song that he had come across  _ once _ as a child.

Ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine, Stiles continued down the path that he usually took, heading towards the clearing he ended up at most of the time. The regular noises of the forest started picking up again, and he breathed a little easier as he approached the spot. When he passed the trees that lined the small meadow, he had to blink a few times as his eyes adjusted to the sun flooding the gap between the trees.

"Oh Scotty," he said quietly as he found "SM+AA" carved on a fallen trunk in the middle of the clearing, a clumsy heart surrounding the initials.

Still shaking his head at Scott's cheesiness, Stiles sat down by the trunk and leaned against it, and then he closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sounds of the trees and whatever birds and small animals lived in the forest. He didn't know how much time passed, but after a while he felt something brush against his ankle, tickling him a little. When Stiles looked down, a small rabbit was sniffing at his shoes, and it made Stiles think back on what exactly it was that smelt inviting. The rabbit barely reacted when Stiles shifted a tiny bit to get a closer look.

"Hey there," he said to the rabbit quietly. "I don't think you want to nibble on those."

For a few seconds, Stiles wondered if the rabbit was magical and would answer him back -- the way the rabbit looked at Stiles but then continued sniffing at the shoes didn't discourage that thought -- but there was no response. Stiles leaned forward more, and he reached a hand out far enough to touch the animal's dark brown fur.

"You're awfully brave for something so tiny," Stiles muttered when the rabbit didn't flinch or run away. "I'm sorry that I have nothing edible for you."

He was still trying to remember what exactly he'd been handling -- and dropping, obviously -- in Herbology earlier that day, when the rabbit suddenly startled and ran off, leaving Stiles with his hand awkwardly stuck in mid-air. But before he opened his mouth to say anything, he noticed how the meadow's surroundings yet again fell into silence.

"Well that was not nice," Stiles mumbled as he pulled his hand back towards him.

Rabbits scared easily, he knew that, and it could've been anything that sent the animal running for the cover of bushes and trees. Still, the silence seemed ominous, so Stiles looked around cautiously, paying more attention to the side of the forest that the rabbit ran  _ from _ . For a while, there was nothing; no movement or noise that would alert him to anyone's or anything's presence.

But then he caught sight of movement in the bushes on one side, and heard quiet crinkling of dried leaves, like someone was very carefully stepping on them. Stiles froze in the spot, afraid that running -- which was usually his first instinctual reaction -- wouldn't get him too far. So instead of darting after the rabbit, Stiles tried to slow his breathing, since there was very little that he could do about his racing heart and he wasn't worried about anyone hearing  _ that _ anyway.

Just when the noises of the crushed leaves stopped, Stiles spotted the opening in the bushes where the movement was and the sounds came from. At first, he saw nothing but darkness, but it became clear why when the opening got bigger and he saw something coming into the meadow -- and more alarmingly, towards  _ him _ . He held his breath for a moment, but let out a quiet gasp when he saw what scared the rabbit away.

It wasn't The Grim, but Stiles' mind still sprang to the picture embedded in his brain. The death omen was only a mirage, a ghost appearance, and what he saw in the meadow was most definitely not imaginary. Bigger than any dog Stiles had ever seen, taller and bulkier than the pictures of wolves he had come across in his recent studies, the animal stood at the edge of the meadow and -- Stiles couldn't think of a word that described it better -- stared. Its eyes were glowing blue, and Stiles wondered if that should be what frightened him.

The wolf -- the closest thing that Stiles could compare it to, even though it  _ was _ significantly bigger -- didn't approach, but it also wasn't attacking, so Stiles' breathing and heartbeat evened out a few moments later. He didn't take his eyes off of the wolf, but he turned his whole body towards it, with movements slower and more graceful than he ever managed before.

"Uh, hi?" Stiles said after a while, when the silence was becoming too much, and when the wolf didn't move or react in any way. "I'm not afraid of you," he said bravely.

The wolf huffed in response, the first sign of acknowledging Stiles beyond watching him, and Stiles shivered a little.

"Okay, maybe I am," he admitted grudgingly.

He could clearly hear the sniffle that sounded almost like a laugh, and it startled him how human it seemed. The wolf’s eyes were still glowing blue, but somehow seemed less menacing, though it -- he, Stiles thought, but he couldn’t see proof to his theory -- began stepping closer. Stiles didn’t back off, because despite the animal’s size, it didn’t seem as terrifying as his imagination had been telling him since the last time he’d seen it. 

It was the same one he’d spotted before, and Stiles wondered -- all while watching it approach -- why it decided to approach him now. 

“So, uh, hi,” Stiles started rambling, his eyes glued to the wolf’s movements. “I hope you’re not planning to eat me, because let me tell you, I’m really hundred forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, and not a suitable dinner.” 

The wolf huffed again, and this time -- being closer -- Stiles could clearly hear the amusement in its tone, however surreal it seemed. 

“Something tells me you understand me,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the wolf. “And I’m  _ not _ going to test it by telling you to stay. Or sit. Or fetch. Because I don’t think you’d like that much.”

The wolf growled as if to confirm Stiles’ words, and it stopped a few feet away from where Stiles was standing. 

“Hi there,” Stiles said quietly, and he shivered a little when the closeness between them showed him how much bigger the wolf was than he thought. 

It was easily tall enough to match his own height if it got up to its back legs -- Stiles was still waiting for the big growth spurt he’d been promised by his Dad -- and it was, without a doubt, intimidating. But the wolf didn’t seem keen on attacking, it stood there observing Stiles with curiosity, like it was waiting for him to make a move. So Stiles did, and he stretched a hand out with caution, making sure that his movement wasn’t too sudden to startle the wolf. His other hand was clinging to the wand he pulled out when he first spotted the wolf in the bushes, stunning spell incantations repeating in his mind. 

The wolf didn’t approach straight away, but when Stiles’ hand began trembling from the effort of holding it up in invitation, it took a step forward first, then another one until Stiles felt fur brush against his palm. He moved his arm forward the last little bit, and rested his hand on the wolf’s head, black fur soft against his own skin.

“Hey,” Stiles whispered when the wolf didn’t move further. “Your fur is softer than I thought.”

The wolf made a huffing sound again, and then it nudged its head against Stiles’ palm. Stiles’ grip on his wand loosened a little, and he brushed his fingers against the wolf’s fur, gently at first, but he got another nudge when his touch was too cautious.

“Like that?” Stiles asked when he scratched its head, and there was another huffing sound that sounded like approval. 

Stiles couldn’t help but smile then, and he took a step closer, his hand rubbing over the top of the wolf’s head, scratching behind its --  _ his _ , Stiles noted after a glance around the wolf’s side -- ears. They stayed like that for a while, Stiles scratching and smiling, the wolf standing still and occasionally growling when Stiles’ fingers tugged on a tangle in his fur. 

Just as Stiles was trying to get the nerve to ask questions -- not that he had an idea on how the wolf would reply -- a crack echoed through the woods, and they both startled. Stiles’ hand moved up just as the wolf backed away, and they both turned in the direction of the school, because that was where the sound seemed to be coming from. Stiles heard rustling behind him then, and when he turned around, he only caught sight of the wolf disappearing in the bushes at the edge of the clearing. 


	8. No Blinding Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was probably a bad idea to follow the wolf. No, Stiles was pretty sure that it was an absolutely crazy idea, and yet he moved before he could talk himself out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the Full Moon Ficlet prompt #251 - lost

It was probably a bad idea to follow the wolf. No, Stiles was pretty sure that it was an absolutely crazy idea, and yet he moved before he could talk himself out of it. The wolf — and Stiles had no doubt now that it was one, though he still wasn’t sure if the “were” part also applied — was out of his sight before Stiles even reached the edge of the forest.

The woods weren’t dark, not yet, but he knew it wouldn’t take long before he’d need to cast Lumos to see. He continued through the thick shrubbery and ducked the low-hanging branches, trying to speed up as much as the growth of the forest allowed him. For a while, all he could see was the trees and then more trees, the forest seemingly closing in on him and slowing him down as he made his way forward. Then there was a flash of light in front of him, and Stiles wondered if it was the edge of the woods or only another clearing like the one he set off from.

It wasn’t either, only a small gap between the trees. When he reached it, he looked up and noticed that the sky was changing colours.

“How long have I been out here?” He muttered the words, loud in the silence of the forest despite being barely above a whisper.

He looked around, then decided to backtrack his steps, since there was no sign of the wolf, nor anything else that would tell him where he was.

“Time to head back home,” he whispered. “If you could hear me,” he addressed the wolf, despite the fact that he couldn’t see him or hear him, “I’d tell you that I’ll come find you again. Or that you could. If that’s okay.”

There was nothing but silence in response to his words, and Stiles’s shoulders sagged as he started walking back to where he came from. Only, some time later, he realised that he _wasn’t_ going in the right direction. He should have reached _his_ clearing then, but there was nothing but more trees and more bushes underneath them, and nothing but darkness surrounding him. Of course by then, he noticed that the sky was growing dark above the crowns of the trees — the tiny gaps he sometimes noticed between them stopped being beacons of light.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he said, watching as the tip of his wand flickered to life, the light of it only good enough to illuminate a few feet of space around him.

“Well, crap,” he mumbled when it didn’t help him see any further than the nearest trees.

He had no idea where he was, which was he should be going, or how he was going to find his way out of the forest and back to the school. Of course, he could cast a direction spell, have his wand point him the right way. But that would mean losing the light, which he would need to see the direction he’d be pointed to.

“I’m not lost, not lost, I’m just… a little misplaced,” he mumbled to himself when he took several steps back and forth in different directions.

Resigned, Stiles sat down on the soft ground beneath the trees, and looked up at the crowns of the trees above him.

He was lost. There was no way around it, no chance of talking himself out of the situation. It was dark, it was late, and while he was sure that someone — Scott, Lydia, one of the teachers — would realise that, he had no way of letting them know where he was, not without losing the light that his wand provided.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to hope they’ll come looking, and that they’ll search the entire grounds,” he mumbled to himself. “If I’m still on school grounds at all.”

He was reasonably sure that he still was, because he knew about the protection spells cast around the school grounds. But he also knew that the forest was huge, and that it would take a while before someone found their way to him.

Just as he was about to turn the light off and try the location spell, hoping that he could _feel_ it even if he couldn’t see, there was a rumbling in the shrubbery just ahead of him. When he looked up, he saw the familiar blue glow emerging, surrounded by black fur.

“Oh. Hey,” he breathed out, recognising the wolf immediately. “Come to eat me, or to save me?”

The wolf didn’t respond, not even with a huff like the ones he let out before, in the clearing. Instead, he walked silently around Stiles, and his muzzle nudged against Stiles’s back.

“Fine, fine, I’m getting up,” Stiles mumbled, this time earning himself an exasperated huff. “You better be here to lead me out, dude.”

The wolf huffed again when Stiles was on his feet, and started moving, pausing after a few steps to look back at Stiles.

Wordlessly — for once in his life Stiles didn’t feel like talking — they both headed out into the forest, the light from Stiles’s wand flickering just enough to help him see branches and roots on the ground. Some time later, the wolf startled again, this time not at any sound that Stiles could hear. He disappeared from Stiles’s sight seconds later.

“Hey, no, where did you…” Stiles started, but his words were interrupted by voices coming from ahead.

“Stiles! Stiiiiles!”

“Scotty!” Stiles called out, his heart racing as he heard his best friend’s voice. “Scott! I’m here!”

He rushed ahead, almost tripping as he stopped paying attention to what was under his feet. A minute or two later, he was falling out of the forest and into a clearing — not the one he was usually in — watching as Scott and Lydia rushed out from the opposite side, both of them looking ruffled and scared.

When he fell into Scott’s arms and glanced over his shoulder at Lydia, Stiles knew it was time to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> [Me](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) & [my fic](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/) are also on tumblr.


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